Chapter Thirty One

They refused to budge as they glanced at each other....

Baron smashed one of them on the face and kicked his chair so hard it sent the others toppling off.

His friends from all around the dining hall flared up.

“You think you own this place, motherfucker—!”

THUD!

Callus moved like lightning.

He grabbed the speaker by the collar and slammed him into the concrete pillar with such force that bones cracked.

The big guy crumpled to the floor — neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

He didn’t move.

The laughter died.

Chaos.

Every fork dropped.

No one breathed.

Exclamations filled the hall. Uncertainty.

A puddle of piss spread slowly beneath the dead boy’s body.

Callus stepped back, chest heaving.

Baron didn’t even blink. His face was as hard as steel.

Azpen stood and placed one of his hands on the table, and yelled flatly:

"Anyone else want to talk about dwarf babies?”

★★★

★★★

The dining hall had gone quiet like a graveyard at dusk. No one spoke. The blood from the fallen cadet still smeared faintly on the cracked wall where Callus had slammed him. A single cracked plate spun lazily on the stone floor, then stopped.

“Elyan Froste,” an instructor growled, his eyes tight with suspicion.

Elowyn was dragged out by two guards before she could process what was happening. They didn’t cuff her, but their grip was firm — like she was diseased.

She tried to reach their stride but she could only wince with all the pain that coursed through her.

The interrogation room reeked of ink, smoke, and stern. Three instructors sat at a high bench.

“You missed your classes yesterday,” one said. “And today, you limp like you’ve been poisoned.”

Elowyn stood still, arms behind her back. “It’s a chronic illness,” she said softly. “I’ve had it since I was a young prince. But I’m here at Ashmoore to train. Not to let illness hold me down.”

A pause.

The instructors exchanged glances.

"Give a detailed explanation of the dining hall incident."

Outside the dining hall, Baron walked past the stone pillar. Calm but icy. He’d witnessed the chaos. Seen the blood. Heard the laughter turn to horror.

He didn’t care.

Not like he was supposed to.

Callus, meanwhile, was taken to the academy hospital. No questions asked. No shackles. Just silence. Later, it would be whispered that Callus had once been tied to a whipping post by a group of boys during his first year — and that boy he'd killed had been their ringleader.

Loyalty to Baron had given him a new name.

★★★

★★★

Elowyn bowed slightly as she was sent out of the hall, eyes blurry with heat and shame. She stumbled into the lower-level toilets and locked herself in the last stall.

She didn’t cry at first.

She just sat. Hands limp between her legs. Breath ragged.

Everyone had looked at her like she wasn’t human. Like she wasn’t real. The same cadets who mocked her scent… now mocked her supposed love life. Her body. Her entire existence.

And Riven… smiled at her?

He'd held her arm during the morning run. Ignored the instructors' growls. Looked at her like she mattered.

Her chest squeezed. She missed her mother.

What was home like now?

Would Haspan still come looking for her?

Why did Baron step in like that?

Why did it… feel like something?

★★★

★★★

Baron stood before the Head Instructor’s desk like it was a guillotine.

“You broke protocol,” the instructor snapped. “We tolerate fights. But sudden death?”

Baron didn’t blink.

“Your Highfather is not pleased. Supreme Alpha Ortiz Ortega always sends word. ‘If chaos returns from that cadet—’” He paused. “'—your promotion is revoked.’”

Baron smiled thinly. “Then he’s free to name another.”

A long silence.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Ortega.”

“I didn’t kill him.”

“But you started the war.”

"Ask Cadet Asher in with me and we'll talk about this."

Baron turned on his heel and left without another word. But as he walked through the dark corridor, a single name tugged on the thread of his calm.

Elyan, the Scrawn Wolf.

★★★

★★★

Azpen found Elowyn that evening, crouched beneath the back bleachers near the field, holding her stomach and breathing quietly.

He tossed a small buttered bread and water parcel to her.

“You’ve got a strange way of staying out of trouble, Elyan,” he said, standing beside her.

Elowyn didn’t look at him. She was tired. The sort of tired that clung to your lungs and didn’t leave.

“I didn’t mean for any of it,” she whispered.

Azpen looked ahead.

“No one ever does.”

Silence.

Then, after a long pause:

“Baron doesn’t act for anyone. Not even the Supreme.”

She turned to him, shocked. Azpen just shrugged and stood.

“Eat the bread. You need your strength.”

★★★

★★★

The final training was brutal.

Elowyn limped through warmups, but Riven was there again. Helping. Supporting her shoulder. Smiling at her.

Instructors barked, but he ignored them.

Baron watched from afar. Irritated.

Not jealous — just… irritated.

When it was time for rope climbs, he leapt atop the jump like a beast—but miscalculated. His boot slipped on a slick edge, and he tumbled.

Gasps flew. But Baron landed like a feral creature and shot back up the ropes with inhuman speed.

At the top, he stood still, eyes scanning the field like a god. Around him, his battalion of senior packmates growled in thunderous awe.

He didn’t look at Elowyn.

But he knew she was still limping.